Passing Notes
by SwagolasThranduilion
Summary: "Sometimes I don't talk for days on end, would that bother you?" Sherlock doesn't choose to do this, he just happens to lose his voice a lot. And he has a secret. A very...secret...secret. What happens when John finds out? Jimlock, one-sided Johnlock. TW for talk of suicide.
1. Chapter 1: Go Away, John

**Hey there yo wassup howzit goin' itsa me Mario!**

**I've never written a Sherlock fic before so...also this is a strange pairing, like it's sort of taboo and I love it I will go down with this ship. R+R pl0x.**

Passing Notes

_Chapter One: Go Away, John._

221b was silent. Not that there wasn't anyone home, of course there was. In fact, both of the men who lived in the tiny apartment were home. It's just that one of them had lost his voice, and had in place the rule that when Sherlock loses his voice, no one is allowed to speak to him. This was a regular occurrence, it didn't phase John Watson at all, however what _did_ phase him was the fact that his curly-haired flatmate had taken to his room, locked the door, and hadn't come out in over 24 hours.

Sighing, John eased himself out of his armchair. It was five O'clock in the evening, and he had taken on a graveyard shift at St. Barts for a bit of extra income. Picking up a pen, he began to scribble a note and made his way to the other's bedroom.

**Sherlock, why is your door locked? -JW**

He slid the scrap of paper under the door. There was a snort on the other side. The white sheet scooted back under to him.

_Go away, John. - SH_

John sighed again. He'd been doing that a lot since moving in with the consulting detective, sighing. But then, that was just the effect Sherlock Holmes had on people. He was exasperating, him and his stupid cheekbones.

_Wait,_ John thought, _why am I thinking about his cheekbones? _He shuddered, shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind, as he picked up a notebook and sagged against the wall, sinking to the cold wood floor.

**No Sherlock, you've been in there for over 24 hours, just come out? Please? - JW**

John sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, pushing the paper under the door frame. There was a thump, and it was returned with a new scrawl.

_No John, leave me alone! - SH_

He let out and audible sigh. That man! That frustrating, infuriating, _lovely_ man! John pulled a face and returned his message,

**Sherlock, there's been a triple murder and Lestrade wants you in, will you please come out? - JW**

This was barefaced lie of course. There was no case. John just needed to, at the very least, see Sherlock's face, if only to make sure he was okay. There was an awful lot of crashes and a very loud thump. quick as a flash, the door flew open, and Sherlock strode out, tying his scarf on. He looked down at John, catching himself as he had nearly tripped over the smaller man.

"Ah good, you're okay!" John exclaimed.

Sherlock glowered at him.

"Oh, uh, yes, the uh, the rule...-I..." John took the notebook from Sherlock, who was offering it to him. He wrote quickly.

**There is no murder, triple or otherwise, I just wanted to make sure you're alright.**

Sherlock glared at the paper, his eyes lifting from it to stare pointedly at John, as if to say "Get out of my face, you short-arse, woolly little bastard."  
He turned on his heel, slamming his bedroom door in John's face. _Great. Oh well. I may as well leave the stubborn shit be,_ John thought bitterly, as he made his way back to his chair, shaking his head at his stubborn, temporarily mute friend.

* * *

**Please review, it makes me happy. _Very, veeeeeeeeeerrrrry happy__ indeed._**


	2. Chapter 2: Visitor

**Hey there, so as promised here is the weekly update!**

* * *

Chapter Two: Visitor**  
**

Sherlock's phone buzzed yet again. He had a voicemail. John was curious. Of course, he didn't listen to the voicemail, but he looked at the recent calls list. He was surprised there was_ anything _at all. He was even more surprised that his last outgoing call to a number he didn't recognise was one hour and forty minutes long. John took a deep breath, and hit the redial button. It rang for several moments.

"Sherrrrloooock hello!" a lilting Irish voice answered.

_No, _John thought, horrified, _no way!_

"Sherlock honeeeeeeeeeeyyy are you there? Oh you've lost your voice again haven't you? Why didn't you just text me? Look I'll come over later when that pet of yours has gone off to work, okay? See you later!" The phone went silent.

_Honey? Coming over later? What the hell was going on? _John dropped the phone, swallowing sharply, wringing his hands together, as he attempted to compose himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed his temples.

_Damn it, work!_

John's eyes snapped open and darted to the clock. He had a sixteen hour shift ahead of him.

* * *

The front door slammed, signalling John's departure from 221b. Sherlock roused himself, emerging from his room, anticipation engraved on his face. He was wearing just a t-shirt, pajama bottoms, and a blue dressing gown. As he shuffled into the small, eclectic living room, he stumbled across his phone, lying in the middle of the floor. _Strange, _he thought, surprised, _I did not leave you there._ He picked it up, setting it on the coffee table. His face crumpled into a puzzled expression, as he turned back towards the kitchen.

He set the kettle boiling, and placed a bowl of fresh apples on the coffee table. He surveyed the room, letting his eyes sweep around the apartment, smirking slightly at the yellow smiley face painted on one wall, taking in the bullet holes that his recent boredom had put there. Sherlock glanced at the clock. Jim promised he's see him today. It had been too long, and Sherlock was bored, Jim hadn't even been playing games with him and John lately. It was rather concerning, actually. They had only spoken on the phone once, and even then that was last month. Sherlock sat on the sofa, biting at his lower lip.

He leaned back, picking at a loose thread on his dressing gown, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Sherlock let out a deep sigh, stretching out, shuddering at all the satisfying pops. Once again glancing at the clock, his anticipation grew. The downstairs doorbell rang.

"Oh hello Jim," he heard Mrs. Hudson say.

She knew about him of course. However, all she knew about him was his name, and that he was a secret.

"Go on up dear, the door should be unlocked."

There was a mutter of thanks. Sherlock's breathing sped up as footsteps made their way up the creaky old staircase. He poured out two cups of tea. The door handle turned slowly, for what seemed like three hours to Sherlock, and finally, through the door clutching a white carrier bag, stepped Jim Moriarty. He was dressed casually, wearing a white v-neck, red cardigan, and black straight leg jeans. His face lit up into a smile when he was Sherlock sitting there, waiting for him. A wide grin spread over Sherlock's face.

"Sherlock," Jim said, his tone full of unspoken emotion,"It's good to see you."

He closed the door behind himself and approached the sofa, settling down beside the taller man.

"I see you made tea," he smiled, gesturing at the cups on the table,"here, put these in yours."

Jim reached into the carrier bag and produced a squirty bottle of honey, and a little container of lemon juice.

"They might just help with your current situation."

Sherlock put the ingredients in his tea, and took a sip, coughing a little at the sharp taste.

"More honey?" Jim inquired.

Sherlock nodded, and Jim chuckled, squeezing more honey into the cup. Sherlock sipped at the now suitably sweet drink. He picked up a pen.

_Thank you Jim_

Moriarty gazed at the consulting detective, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks.

"Yeah no problem, " he replied softly.

Sherlock looked down towards the floor before writing again.

_You know, you're the only on I let talk to me when I'm like this_

Jim read, his mouth forming a small 'o' shape. The blush was now more pronounced on his face than before.

"Really? Why?" he asked curiously. He let his arm drift to settle around Sherlock.

_Your voice isn't grating, it's_

Sherlock paused, searching for the right word.

_comforting_

Jim let a giggle slip out.

"Well if that's your way of saying I'm not an annoying little shit, thank you."

Sherlock smiled warmly.

"So...were you worried I wasn't coming tonight? Is that why you phoned earlier?"

Sherlock's face fell.

_What do you mean? I didn't phone you_

Jim looked puzzled, speechless.

"I got a phonecall from your number earlier, there was no one speaking do I figured it was you."

_My phone was lying on the floor when I came out of my room_

Sherlock looked at Jim wide-eyed.

_You don't think_

He hesitated, furrowing his brow before continuing.

_John got into my phone?_

"He could have, Sherlock...in which case...we are S-C-R-E-W-E-D..."

Sherlock groaned, burying his face in his hands, as he twisted to rest his head on the criminal's shoulder. Moriarty rubbed small circles on Sherlock's back, trying to soothe him.

"Hey it can't be that bad," he murmured into the dark curls,"after all, you're happy with 'us' aren't you?"

Sherlock sniffed, and nodded.

"Well then, what's the big deal...?"

Why was Jim being so stupid? Had he forgotten what they'd been doing besides dating in secret? He hurriedly scribbled.

_Jim have you forgotten? The organised crime? The games you set up for us? John...he hates you...a lot. He thinks you have it in for me, that you want me dead.  
_

Jim snorted._  
_

"That pet of yours is so boooooring! I don't want you dead! I just want...you."

He hesitated before adding, "Doesn't he know flirting when he sees it?"

Sherlock silently laughed bitterly, shooting and incredulous look at his lover.

_Strapping a bomb to my friend? That was you flirting?_

Jim threw his hands up.

"Hey, conventional flirting is boring!"

_You are quite the drama queen._

"Queen being the keyword there baby," he smirked, winking at Sherlock, who looked at him slyly through his dark eyelashes.

Jim slid his right hand under Sherlock's chin, tilting his face towards him, and gently pressing their lips together. Sherlock rested his hands on the back of the other's neck, stroking the heated skin. Jim's hand curved around Sherlock's cheek, his thumb grazing the skin as his hands drifted downwards to settle on the curly-haired man's waist. Their kiss intensified as Jim bit down on Sherlock's lower lip, drawing blood. Sherlock pulled back a little, smirking as the drop of blood dribbled down his chin. He picked up the pen.

_So that's how it's going to be, is it?_

Sherlock leered at Jim, who sucked in a shaky breath.

"Did that not hurt? It looks sore."

_I'm fine, if anything..._

He paused.

_I'm more turned on than ever_

Jim choked back the animalistic growl that was building in his throat.

"Sherlock," he strained,"I want you. Right here. Right now. In John's chair. Please."

_Why not, _Sherlock thought, as lust clouded his judgement, and he submitted to James Moriarty.

* * *

As John turned into Baker Street, he cursed himself for getting his work schedule wrong. His night shift was tomorrow. He approached 221b with apprehension. Didn't Moriarty say earlier he be right over once John had left for work? He readied himself, preparing for whatever sight may meet his eyes, if any. Sliding his key into the lock, he silently opened the door. He made his way carefully upstairs, avoiding the creaky steps. Pausing at his front door, he deliberated a thought. He could always just go to the pub for a few hours, feign being at work in order to avoid that confrontation that was inevitably going to happen. _No John, _he thought _face it, face this now and deal with it.  
_

Huffing out sharply through his nose, he opened the door as quickly as he could. He just threw it open, and was greeted by the stench of sex and what a sight. His best friend locked in a tight embrace with his supposed worst enemy. They was on the couch, covered with only a blanket, gently snoozing. Sherlock's head was resting on Moriarty's chest. John barked a cough, and Sherlock's eyes shot open, alarmed.

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**Thank you for reading so far! Please review, reviews fuel my creative spirit ahahaha. As before, there will be another chapter posted next week xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3: Confrontation

Ah yes here we are yet again with another chapter ^_^ Enjoy!

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Chapter Three: Confrontation

"John!" Sherlock croaked.

Ah, his voice was returning.

"John, I can explain!"

Jim stirred.

"Mmph...Sherlock, what's..." his eyes landed on John, "oh."

The doctor stood his ground, gesturing in a way that said 'explain yourselves now.'

Jim's face broke into a grin.

"Ahhh John hiii-iiii," he sing-songed, "it's been a while."

"Yes," John huffed impatiently, "as I recall, you tried to kill **us**." He emphasised the 'us'.

"Ohhh John, John, Johnnyyyy," Moriarty's voice climbed an octave, "Noooooo, you've got me all wrong, you see I was simply _flirting _with your dear Sherlock here."

John raised his eyebrows, as Sherlock made a move to jump up before being pulled back down by Moriarty.

"Ah ah ah, where do you think you're going, sexy? There's only one sheet here, if you take it I'll be exposed in the nuddy-pants to your precious pet here, you don't want that, do you?"

John turned his back.

"Oh by all means," he spat bitterly, "get dressed, _please._"

* * *

Sherlock sat on the couch with his head in his hands, Jim stood by the window, his hands shoved in his pockets. John sat in his armchair with a stern expression on his face.

"Sherlock," he said calmly, "do you want to explain yourself, or do I have to ask specific questions?"

Sherlock let out a harsh breath.

"Why don't you just ask questions?" he mumbled into his hands.

"Okay," John unfolded his hands and held them palms facing up, "how long has this been going on for?"

Sherlock answered so quietly John couldn't hear it.

"Sorry?"

"UGH!" Moriarty suddenly exploded,"he said more than a year, you FOOL!"

Sherlock looked up at Jim, who stared back.

"I...uh...-sorry...I lost my cool, sorry," Jim stuttered.

Sherlock turned his attention back to his flatmate.

"More than a year, okay, okay...Why? Why Moriarty of all people?"

"Hey I'm standing right here!"

"Oh shut up!"

"BECAUSE," Sherlock interrupted, "...I don't know, alright? I just..." his eyes darted up to meet Jim's.

"There's just something about him okay? John it's not like I can _choose _who I f-...fall in...-" he faltered and stopped._  
_

John stared incredulously between the two.

"**You're in love with him? JIM MORIARTY!?"**

A blush crept up on Sherlock's cheeks.

"Oh John I do wish you would stop talking as if I'm not RIGHT HERE!" Jim cut in, his calm voice rising into a bellow.

"Yeah if it bothers you that much, just leave, I don't care. I'm not talking to _you _anyway."

"But this concerns Sherlock and **I**.It takes two to tango, Johnny."

"You tried to kill me!"

"I to-old you, that was flirting!"

"Jim," Sherlock said quietly, "...maybe you should go."

He looked up at him with a sorrowful expression. Moriarty sighed, stepping towards his curly-haired lover. He brushed the other man's cheek lightly with his fingers.

"Fine, I'll go...but..." he leaned down to whisper in Sherlock's ear, "don't let him upset you, don't let him hurt you, don't let him compromise what we have, okay? I don't care how jealous he is..."

Jim straightened up.

"Toodle-ooo Johnnyyy!" he sang cheerfully as he approached the door, "oh by the waaaay...wehadsexinyourchairOKAYBYE!"

He slammed the door shut as John sprung up from his chair in disgust.

"Sherlock!"

* * *

"Sherlock...I just want a straight answer...is Moriarty real? I mean, is her actually a consulting criminal?"

"Yes John, of course he's real! Why would I invent him?"

"Oh I don't know...because you're bored!?

"I may get bored on occasion, yes, but I wouldn't sink so low as to-"

"All the crimes though, with Moriarty behind all of them, how-"

"It's a game John!" Sherlock boomed, "it's just. A. **GAME**."

"Sherlock, those are _real_ crimes! He's killing _real _people! All for what? TO ENTERTAIN YOU? God you are...- you're sick, you need help!"

"Oh because you're such an expert, Mr. Psychosomatic limp!"

"I can_not _believe you right now, Sherlock Holmes! Now you listen to me, I-"

"Boys!" Mrs. Hudson burst through the door, "what is all this yelling for goodness sake? It's eight o'clock at night!"

She saw the sour and angry expression marring both the men's faces.

"Ohhh...oh Sherlock he's found out about Jim hasn't he?" she looked at him sympathetically.

"You..." John faltered, "you KNEW? And you didn't think to tell me!?"

"John! Stop it!" Sherlock growled.

John pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock began, "I think it's about time-"

"Yes, dear, yes," Mrs. Hudson looked John in the eye.

"Sherlock and I, we made an arrangement that if you found out about his and Jim's relationship, well...John, this is your eviction notice. You have two weeks. Goodnight."

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**Oooooooooh :O**

**as always r+r please I'll pay you in sexual favours**


	4. Chapter 4: Lost

**Is it that time again?**

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Chapter 4: Lost

John was fuming, furious, fretting that he wouldn't find a new place to live, livid that Sherlock would do this to him.

"Harry?"

"John...?"

"I...-I need help, Harry," John's voice crackled down the phone.

Noting the tome of desperation in her older brother's voice, Harry Watson let out a sigh.

"What's wrong, John?" Something must be seriously wrong, he never came to her for help.

"I don't know who else to turn to...I...-Harry I've been evicted and I- well, I need a place to stay. Badly."

"Oh John, what did you do?"

"I, er, reacted...badly? To some news. Very badly."

"...care to elaborate?"

"Uhm...Sherlock has been in a secret relationship with a very bad man and I've just found out and...well you can fill in the rest...put short, I have two weeks to get out.."

There was a beat of silence at Harry's end.

"...Fine. I'll see what I can do, but John this had better be short term, extremely so," she warned.

The dial tone sounded. Typical Harry, no goodbye, no pleasantries.. John closed his eyes and breathed out heavily. He glanced at the clock. Eleven O'clock in the morning. Rubbing his hands together, he emerged from his room, greeted by a sombre violin melody. Sherlock was composing again. The small man silently cursed himself yet again, berating himself for his reaction the previous night. Why was he _so _angry? Well, the obvious being that Jim Moriarty had threatened to kill him and Sherlock, _and _he was committing crimes, hurting people, but there was something else. Eating away at him, bubbling inside him every time he thought about the whole affair. No, he was _not jealous __of Jim Moriarty. __Jealous? Him? Bah! _He shook the thought off, and returned to the more pressing matter at hand. He sighed once more, quietly, before continuing his way downstairs, Sherlock's lugubrious tune playing him out.

* * *

"**John! Will you answer my phone?"** Sherlock called out, his eyes unmoving from the eyepiece of the microscope, before realising, remembering what had ensued, a crestfallen look marring his pale features. A sad sigh escaped his lips, before he stood up, searching for his phone. It was a blocked number, so it could only be one person.

"Jim, hello."

"Hiii-iii Sherlock!," the voice sing-songed.

"New number?"

"Yeeeeah, sorry about that, it's going to be changing a lot over the next few months, some government's trying to track me down, ha-ha-ha," his tone dripped with sarcasm.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"So...why are you calling?"

"Am I not allowed to call my very most favourite person in the whole wide world?"

Sherlock swallowed nervously. He, of course, knew _exactly _why he was calling.

"I take it you want to know what happened?"

"Ohhhhhh yaaaaaaaaay! Well done sweetie! Cookie for you! So, please, spare me the suspense, do tell every. Juicy. Detail."

Sherlock breathed out sharply and rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Come over?"

"Ohhh tantalizing, I have to be there in person for the tale to be told? My, my, my you had better not disappoint! I'll be there in an hour!"

* * *

"John what's the matter? You seem unfocused today," Sarah questioned.

John was sitting in the break room with his head in his hands.

"Ah nothing...just..-just some drama at home. I-I've been evicted and it's all just-"

"What happened? Did that flatmate of yours do something to get you both kicked out?"

"Uh...no, it-it's just me...actually..."

Sarah's eyes narrowed.

"What did you do?"

Blast it, John thought angrily, why does everyone think it's something_ I_ did? _Oh but it is, _his conscience told him,_ it's all your fault. Everything's your fault, John_.

"Sherlock...he, uh, he's got a boyfriend and I...-well, I didn't react appropriately I suppose," he explained, all the while thinking he bloody well did react the way any sane person would, finding out your best friend is shagging a murderous sociopath.

"Oh John," Sarah tutted, "don't you worry, I'm sure things will be alright again soon, you'll see it'll blow over."

John gave a small grunt of dismissal.

* * *

"Oh hello Jim, dear!"

"Hello Mrs. Hudson, how's the hip?"

"Just awful but I'll manage. He's in a bit of a state, Jim, moping around, playing that wretched violin of his..."

"Oh I'm sure he'll be juuuuuuust fine."

* * *

"Sherlock? Hiiii-iii!"

Sherlock lifted his face from the pillow it was buried in, damp with a mixture of tears and sweat. He sniffed.

"Jim," he replied thickly.

Jim caught sight of Sherlock lying on the sofa, his face tear-stained and the pillow sodden.

"oh sweetheart, whatever is the matter?" he surged forward, engulfing Sherlock in his arms.

"I'm glad you left last night," Sherlock whispered, barely audible, "the things he said about you..."

"Shhh, it's okay...words are knives that often leave scars...but then...that's all, just scars...no real damage done..."

The curly-haired man raised his head, looking at the Irishman with bleary eyes and snorted.

"You stole that from a song."

Moriarty shrugged, giving a look of mock defeat.

"What," Sherlock chuckled, "can't think of your own lines any more?"

"Oh...oh Sherlock, you wound me!"

He gave a small smile.

"So!" Jim clamped his hand firmly down on Sherlock's thigh, "tell me! Tell me, ohhhh tellllllllllllllll meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Sherlock closed his eyes for a little longer than a standard blink.

"He wasn't happy, that's for sure, but of course you knew that already," Sherlock began.

Jim smirked.

"Anyway," he continued, "push came to shove, John raised his voice, Mrs. Hudson came up, and she made good of our arrangement."

"Ohhhh that makes me tiiingly all over!"

Sherlock look at Jim reproachfully, and muttered, "It hasn't done _me _any favours...I miss him..."

"...of COURSE YOU MISS HIM!" Moriarty began shouting mid-sentence, "he was your very favourite little hedgehog."

"Shh Jim, please, keep your voice down, you'll worry Mrs. Hudson."

Jim stopped dead, realisation dawning in his eyes.

"Wait...wait, wait, what precisely did you tell him about_ us_?"

Sherlock's throat tightened.

"I..." it then dawned on him.

"You told him all the crimes were a set up, didn't you?"

Sherlock gulped, his throat now dry.

"Y-yes," he stuttered.

**"DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!?"**

"I..-I-"

"You have a pissed off ex-flatmate, with a story the press would juuu-uuuust love!"

Sherlock turned away with a groan.

"Yes, 'ugh' is right Sherlock! If he goes to the press, which I have no doubt in my mind that he will, you, I, - we are ruined!" And you! You'll be thrown in prison for this!"

Sherlock paled, as Jim's face reddened.

"We uh...- I suppose we'll have to do something about it then..."

"About _him _Sherlock," Jim said suggestively, his eyebrows quirking upwards for a brief moment.

"No!" Sherlock stared in wide-eyed horror, "no Jim! You mustn't!"

"Bo-oring! Fine then, what if we were to disappear...-no he'd still tell...OH! If we were to, oh I don't know, die tragically and suddenly, he'd feel bad, and surely he wouldn't want to mar your name in death..."

"Tragically?"

"The most tragic way possible."

"You mean..."

"Yes, Sherlock. Suicide."

Sherlock fell silent.

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**[cue dramatic music] Please please pleeeeeeeeeeeease review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Lies

**Sorry I didn't update last week, Halloween and all ^_^**

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Chapter Five: Lies

It was too hard, avoiding Sherlock. He'd changed the past few days, staying in his room. He hadn't taken any cases in a while. _Yeah, because he's shagging his so-called "enemy", _John mentally spat. In fact, it was on day three when John decided he would try to communicate with his soon-to-be ex-flatmate. Pen and paper in hand, he approached the bedroom door.

**Sherlock are you alright? -JW**

The small man drew in a shaky breath as the paper came back to him.

_I'm fine John_

_I've lost my voice again is all._

_-SH_

He'd guessed as much.

**Just so you know, I'm leaving at the end of the week, staying with Harry -JW**

Sherlock read the note with an ache in his heart. He remembered Jim's plan, and something clicked in his mind.

_Wait John_

_I need to 'talk' to you._

Sherlock opened the door, thrusting the note into the older man's hands, pushing past him into the living room. He sat on the sofa, patting the space beside him. John took the seat.

**What is it?**

_You can't go John_

**Why not?**

_I'm leaving Jim_

**What? Why?**

John's face was incredulous. He just couldn't believe it at all.

_I just...I don't love him anymore._

_ I realise now that I never really did._

_He was a bit of a dick to be honest._

John's eyes moved from the paper to Sherlock's face, searching for any hint of a lie.

**Oh yes? Why the sudden realisation?**

Sherlock sighed deeply, knowing fully well that he was telling bare-faced lies to his best friend.

_I've been thinking about where my_

_ priorities and loyalties lie, I suppose._

_He tried to kill you. I'm sorry. I've been a fool._

_There's something else too..._

John wet his dry lips.

**Oh?**

Sherlock swallowed hard, before hesitantly writing.

_I've realised that I love...someone else..truly._

John's palms began to sweat, his throat drying up. He chewed on his lower lip nervously, hands shaking slightly as he wrote.

**Who?**

Sherlock looked away from the smaller man, raising a hand to rub his chin. He closed his eyes for a bit longer than a standard blink, squeezing them shut hard. He let out a shuddery breath, disbelieving in what he was about to do. He just hoped Jim would forgive him.

_You, John._

Sherlock turned his steely gaze upon the fair-haired man, observing his breathing increasing rapidly and his pupils dilating. So he was right. He had suspected John's feelings for a while. John raised an eyebrow in shock.

He stuttered, "Y-you...-you..."

He coughed awkwardly.

"You, ah...you...love...me...?"

Sherlock nodded, silently cursing himself. _Forgive me Jim, please forgive me, _he thought desperately, as he placed his hands on either side of the older man's face, and drew them together in a heated clash of lips and teeth. John melted into Sherlock, his hands snaking into the dark curly locks. They pulled apart, a dusting of pink across John's small face. His eyes lit up, and a contented smile played itself across his features.

"Do you really mean it, Sherlock?"

The younger man sighed a tiny bit, and nodded. John let a wide grin spread across his face.

"Well...I..-I must say, I do...feel the same way...er- have done for a while now actually..."

He pondered a thought for a moment.

"I suppose this means...I _don't _have to move out?" he asked hopefully.

_Of course you don't John._

"Right, I- uh..." he began, clapping his hands together and standing up, "must call Harry then...you'll tell Mrs. Hudson?"

Sherlock nodded again, smiling.

"Well then..er...yes- Harry..." John left the room.

Sherlock let out the breath he had been holding and picked his phone up off of the floor beside him, where it was just out of sight. He held it to his ear and breathed out heavily.

"That was one way to get him to trust you again I suppose..." a bored voice droned, "ugh but did you have to kiss him? I'm the jealous type you knoooooow. Ah well anyway, leave it a week, and then do it. You know exactly what to do, don't you?"

One ambiguous grunt later, the voice on the other end of the phone spoke in a more cheerful and upbeat tone.

"Good good! See you soon, sexy!"

* * *

**Please please please reviiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeewwwwww**

**or I'll do to you what I did to Curly Jefferson.**


	6. Chapter 6: Blurry

**Here we are, the final chapter [dramatic music]**

* * *

Chapter Six: Blurry

The next week dragged by. No cases, keeping up appearances for John, boring, boring, B-O-R-I-N-G! Jim's plan was well thought out and perfectly formulated, there was just the task of it being carried out. As the week drew to a close, Sherlock found himself growing more and more on edge, his nerves jittery, his breathing erratic, and his heart pounding thump-thump-thump against his ribcage. It was the final day. _His _final day to John, that is. It began normally, as any other. Around mid morning though, Sherlock received a phone call. Private, it would seem to John, as Sherlock took the call in his bedroom. But it was the plan beginning, the first vital ingredient in a chemical concoction setting off a chain reaction.

"Are you ready to begin?" the soft voice murmured.

"Yes," Sherlock hissed.

"Hey now, calm down, there's no need for that attitude."

Sherlock sighed.

"Sorry," he breathed, resigned, "It's just I'm theoretically dying today."

"So am I!"

"Yes, but you don't have to 'die' with your best friend actually _believing _you're dying, and hammering on the door to get in..."

"True," Jim said apologetically, "Look, Sherlock, it'll be fiiiiiiiine. You _can _do this. You're a good enough actor, I know you can."

There was a brief, tense silence.

"I can't do it, Jim," Sherlock choked out, a catch in his throat, "I can't do this to John, it'll destroy him!"

"Sherlock," Moriarty warned, "There's no backing out now. You have to do this. It's the only way you and I can be together. Be a man. Or a woman. Or whatever. Don't behave like a scared little girl. You do still love me, don't you?"_  
_

Sherlock's breath rattled out.

"Yes," he whispered, "Of course I love you Jim...it's just...- sod it, I'll do it. I can do this. I _will _do this. The prize is worth the loss."

"Goooood," Jim purred, "Remember, you have all the time you need. My guys are on standby, waiting to intercept John's call. Good luck."

The dial tone sounded. Sherlock laid the phone down on his bedside table, and, with a groan, buried his face in his pillows. Tears were flowing freely down his reddened cheeks. _Good, _he thought. He'd have to appear very upset to John. The act wouldn't be taking place until the evening. Sherlock inhaled a deep breath and let it back out forcefully. He shook his head, clearing his mind, and stood up, leaving the room to return to John. He was highly aware of his red eyes and tear-stained face. He sank into his chair as John looked up from his paper. It fell to the floor with a rustle.

"Sherlock!" John rose and surged forward, resting his hand on the taller man's shoulder, "Sherlock what's wrong?"

The consulting detective opened and closed his mouth, searching for the right words to convince the older man of his fabricated story.

"John...," he mumbled, letting out a small sigh, "Jim...he...he's killed himself..."

John's eyes softened. He may not have liked James Moriarty, but he would never wish suicide on anyone.

"Oh Sherlock.." John murmured, "I'm so sorry...did he...leave a..-a note, or anything?"

Fresh tears began to stream down Sherlock's face. He nodded once quickly, and swallowed hard, choking back the sob that was rising in his throat. He wasn't doing this just for performance's sake, he truly was feeling awful for lying to bare-faced to John.

"Ye-yes," he stammered, "He...-he said that...that he did it because of me!"

Sherlock's voice rose into a strangled cry.

"He did it because I finished with him! He got depressed...and decided he couldn't live without me...so he took his own life, John! This is my fault!"

John sat on the edge of Sherlock's chair, and wrapped an arm around him.

"Sherlock really you mustn't blame yourself. It was _not _your fault," he reassured the younger man softly.

"Y-yeah," Sherlock muttered, "I know...it-it's not my fault...I mustn't..." still tears flowed down his face.

John pulled Sherlock into a hug, resting his chin atop the consulting detective's dark curls.

"Look, I'll phone in sick today, alright? I can't leave you on your own, not in this state..."

"No John," Sherlock mumbled, "You can't miss work again, not because of me. It's fine. Really, I'll be fine...just fine..."

John breathed out heavily.

"Are you sure? I'd really feel more comfortable staying here, making sure you're okay..."

"John," Sherlock grumbled, "Just go. It's fine."

John sighed, releasing the younger man. He studied Sherlock's face carefully. The tears had slowed to a trickle, and his eyes were a bit red and swollen.

"Are you absolutely sure? Positive? 100%? I don't need to go if you-"

"Just go to work John I'm fine!" Sherlock snapped, raising his voice.

John threw his hands up in defeat.

"Fine. Okay. Well then, " he coughed, "I'd best be off."

* * *

The hours dragged by. He was to go to his room and lock the door shortly before John arrived home at five O'clock. John wouldn't be concerned about his general absence until he'd not seen him for a few hours anyway. Right on time, the trudging footsteps up the creaky old stairs signaled John's arrival. The front door slammed, and Sherlock could hear John's heaving sigh, along with the familiar fabric-on-fabric of him settling into his chair.

"Sherlock?" he called out.

"In the bedroom John!" Sherlock answered, hoping John wouldn't come looking for him. At least, just not yet.

* * *

A few hours later, John found himself standing outside Sherlock's room, rapping on the door with his knuckles.

"Sherlock? Are you you hungry? I've got chinese."

He received no answer.

"Sherlock?"

"SHERLOCK!"

John backed up, and, with all the force he could muster, kicked the door in. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes.

* * *

Sherlock lay perfectly still, empty pill bottles littering his room. Playing dead was hard. Beneath each arm (which by now were both thoroughly numb) he clenched a small rubber ball, cutting off each blood supply, and therefore stopping his pulse. Along each pale limb several cuts (deep but not fatal) marred the alabaster skin.

* * *

"Sherlock!" John cried out as he stumbled into the room. There were several empty paracetamol bottles on the bedside table, a few more fallen onto the floor. Sherlock lay face down on his bed, unmoving. John surged forward, catching Sherlock's wrist only to be met with a sticky warmth. He drew his hand back and looked at it. Blood! he looked at the once-white sheets, now stained scarlet red. John grabbed the younger man's wrist again, feeling for a pulse.

"Come on Sherlock! No!"

He couldn't find one. His knees gave out beneath him.

"No," he breathed, "No no no no no...god no..."

John collapsed backwards and pulled himself out of the room, breathless. He scrambled his way across the room to his phone, managing to call an ambulance, before dropping the phone and breaking down completely.

"M...-MRS HUDSON!" he called out between sobs, his voice cracking,"Please, MRS. HUDSON!"

"John? What is it dear?" her voice called back.

"PLEASE! JUST...PLEASE GET UP HERE!"

As soon as she entered the flat she spotted John on the floor, and the blood on his hands. Sobs wracked his small body as he lifted a shaky arm and pointed her in the direction of Sherlock's room. Mrs. Hudson grew pale and hesitantly peeked around the door. She was out of sight for mere seconds before there was a horrified shriek, and she backed out of the room.

"Oh John!" She cried tearfully, "Is..is he..."

John's breath caught in his throat as he choked out a "Yes."

The next few moments were a blur, paramedics rushing in. The last John Watson saw of Sherlock Holmes was a pale, blood streaked arm swinging off a stretcher as he was carried out of 221b Baker Street. A small rubber ball rolled off and bounced down the stairs, but John, grief-stricken, did not notice.

* * *

**And there we are. I thank you for reading.**

**Please review, let me know what you think.**


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